


Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen, Gift, Knight and Squire - Freeform, Loss, Memory, Midwinter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Wyldon has a Midwinter present for Owen.





	Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lisa at Goldenlake for the Wishing Tree Event. 
> 
> Set after Lady Knight.

Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth

“This is Graystorm.” Wyldon’s breath frosted in the wintry cold of the Cavall stables where he had taken Owen to become acquainted with the new mount he intended to given his squire. “He’ll be your horse from now on. He’s one of the finest horses I’ve ever trained, and I expect you’ll work well together.” 

Wyldon shot Owen a severe glance as he finished, as if to warn his squire whom he would blame if the match failed to work well, but Owen was too preoccupied admiring his new horse to notice Wyldon’s stern glare. 

“He’s magnificent.” Whistling in a vulgar habit Wyldon had never been able to break him of, Owen held out a palm for Graystorm—a stallion with the thundery gray coat his name implied—to sniff. “Are you sure you want me to have him, my lord?” 

“There’s no one I would rather have him.” Wyldon watched in gruff approval as Graystorm whinnied and nuzzled at Owen’s hand. 

“Even after what happened to Happy, sir?” Owen’s eyes were wide as his fingers combed Graystorm’s mane. 

“Even after what happened to Happy.” If anything, Owen’s incessant mourning and guilt over his lost horse made Wyldon more certain about entrusting Graystorm to the boy he had once regarded as a hopeless hellion. Owen seemed to have latched onto Happy’s death out of all those he had witnessed during the Scanran War as the one he should have prevented. None of that gave Wyldon much patience with his squire’s seemingly inexhaustible capacity for needless dramatics, however. “Happy lived and died as he was taught to do.” 

“I can’t take another horse from you, my lord.” Abruptly Owen’s hand dropped from Graystorm’s mane. “I know they’re wroth their weight or more in gold.” 

“My horses having good masters is more important to me than gold.” Wyldon arched an eyebrow at his squire’s sudden stubbornness. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jesslaw?” 

“People only say that about bad gifts like socks, sir.” Owen was blunt as ever, and there was the beginning of a mischievous glint in his gaze that assured Wyldon he would be accepting Graystorm despite his protestations. “Graystorm is the best gift I’ve ever received in my life. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Wyldon nodded a stiff acknowledgement. “I take you’re not renaming him Jolly as a sufficient sign of your gratitude.” 

“Now that you mention it, Jolly would be a very festive name for this time of year…” Owen trailed off when Wyldon glowered balefully at him. 

“You must be joking.” At least Wyldon hoped by all the gods that Owen was joking. Nobody in the realm was as adept as his squire at making Wyldon wish he was hearing a joke. “I’ll never call a dignified horse like Graystorm by such a ridiculous name.” 

“You said you’d never call Windtreader Happy, my lord,” pointed out Owen, and Wyldon’s scowl deepened at having his own words forged into a weapon to be wielded against him. Owen could be quite conniving at that. Wyldon suspected it was a disagreeable consequence of prolonged fraternization with Nealan of Queencove. “Yet you did.” 

Wyldon had only done so after Happy had died in a concession to Owen’s grief for the horse, but he saw no reason to mention Happy’s unfortunate fate again, so he remained silent, allowing his squire to believe he had won an argument for once.


End file.
